


The Shock Of The Lightning

by DValkyrie



Series: Modern DJs and Vintage Love [7]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Clubbing, F/F, Gyms, Jealousy, M/M, Racism, Smoking, nightclubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23079307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DValkyrie/pseuds/DValkyrie
Summary: Ever since Dorothea started dating Petra, Ingrid can't help but feel...weird.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Modern DJs and Vintage Love [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1498760
Kudos: 27





	The Shock Of The Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this.
> 
> This is the song the fic is named after: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mPc2plEHrHA
> 
> Thanks to ThePlumPyre for beta-ing

Ingrid remembered seeing a girl at the stables she used to ride at when she was ten years old. That girl had red hair and dark eyes, and was always determined to do the best she could.    
  
“Hehehe, you like her,” Sylvain, her childhood friend, had jeered one day. His father had come to pick Ingrid up so that she and Sylvain could have a play date at Felix’s house.

  
“I-I do not!” Ingrid pouted and looked out the window.    
  
Ingrid remembered admiring her diligence and love of horses - but she never had romantic feelings for her.   
  
Even when she started studying animal science at Garreg Mach University, Ingrid’s female classmates were somewhat similar to that girl at the stables all those years ago. In her dorm, Ingrid was friends with Annette, a PhD student, and Mercedes, a nursing student. Both were kind and pretty, but yet again Ingrid didn’t feel any sort of attraction.    
  


And she didn’t question this. Ingrid was never one for love, anyway. She had to focus on the degree she was currently paying for by herself through her shitty job at Starbucks. She had to focus on keeping the shitty truck she bought in tact, having also paid it off through Starbucks. She had to keep her grades up, to prove to her father that she was more than her gender.   
  
Then, Ingrid met Dorothea.   
  
They met at Starbucks, Ingrid would usually take her order while Leonie made the white chocolate mocha frappucino. The two would discuss all kinds of topics, ranging from campus gossip, to the latest Twitter memes to Dorothea’s disgust towards men. Dorothea was a music student who used to perform with some Opera company, before deciding to study at Garreg Mach because her idol took up a teaching position at the campus. Aside from being an incredible singer, Dorothea was also a DJ who gigged around regularly, hence the common connection between the two women was Sylvain.   
  
“Here,” Sylvain handed a bottle of water to Ingrid one Saturday morning. They were sitting on a bench near the pond, watching Associate Professor Byleth  fish  with Ashe.   
“What’s this for?” Ingrid looked from the bottle to Sylvain, genuinely unsure.   
“Because you’re thirsty,” Sylvain jerked his head over to the other side of the pond. There sat Dorothea, her Macbook open with a pair of headphones on and bobbing her head to something.   
Ingrid blushed furiously and shoved the water back at Sylvain.   
  
But there was no use hiding it. Ingrid had feelings for Dorothea.    
  
The two even made out once, at an end-of-semester party hosted by Raphael and Leonie, as the two shared a place. The house party was completely popping, everyone was drunk and stoned and Caspar had flipped off the roof of the house into the pool. Ingrid, in the heat of the moment, had locked lips with Dorothea for about five minutes straight in the corner while Sylvain was DJing.  [ The song pounded in her ears ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5T3SSLAJQ4) as she tasted the vodka soda and cigarette combo that was Dorothea’s mouth.   
  
The next morning, Ingrid had ended up on Raphael’s couch, upside down with her bra askew . She sent a text to Dorothea apologizing, and got a single line of text for a response:   
  
**Dorothea:** **_Don’t worry about it hun, it was fun ;) <3_ **

* * *

This happened about two months ago, and in that time period, Dorothea had started dating Petra.   
  
...Urgh, Petra.   
  
Ingrid didn’t know Petra well, but knew  _ of  _ her. Petra was a regular at Garreg Mach’s campus gym, the exact location Ingrid found out Dorothea was dating.

The blonde had entered that very gym at around 7ish one Monday morning and saw Petra doing squats with a medicine ball, staring directly into the mirror.    
  
Ingrid gulped, noticing how diligent Petra was with her workout routine, and when Petra finished the reps, she saw Ingrid in the mirror, turned around and waved with a smile.   
  
“Good morning, Ingrid!”   
  
Ingrid could barely muster a wave back. Petra’s smile was so radiant Ingrid had to squint. Who had this much energy this early in the morning?    
  
“Hi, Petra.”   
  
“What a wonderful morning it is being, no? I am having great joy with this workout,” Petra had trotted over, the medicine ball tucked under one arm and her gym towel slung over her shoulder.   
  
Ingrid blinked, trying to process Petra’s strange way of speaking Fódlanese. Her accent was also rather strange, but Ingrid couldn’t comprehend how Petra exhumed such bright confidence with a language she seemed to only just grasp.    
  
“Uh, yeah...7am workouts do that,” was Ingrid’s mumbled response.   
  
“You have my admiration for your early morning workout,” Petra continued to beam, and Ingrid noticed that there was not a single drop of sweat rolling down Petra’s face. Petra was glowing, and her brown eyes shone with kindness.   


The rest of the conversation continues and ends within forty seconds. Ingrid starts her workout on the rowing machine, but out of the corner of her eye, she can see Petra at a punching bag, making swift jabs with a laser sharp focus. Ingrid thought Petra didn’t need to use the gym. She had the body of some sort of goddess, so toned and firm.   
  
“Man, I really envy Petra,” It was Leonie’s voice that snapped Ingrid back to reality. She had walked over to Ingrid and sat on the rowing machine next to her.   
  
“How come?” Ingrid asked, having reached the 500m mark on the machine.   
  
“Well,  _ look  _ at her!” Leonie jerked her head over to Petra, who continued to throw jabs with the same force and agility as a lightning strike.   
  
From that brief interaction with Leonie, Ingrid’s opinion changed again. Why would Petra be at the gym making everyone else feel awful?    


* * *

  
It was common for Ingrid to sit with her friends on her work break. She would often study with Marianne in the evening. However, Marianne didn’t like to go outside during the day, let alone be seen. (Ingrid was convinced she’s a vampire)   
When Marianne wasn’t around, Ingrid would study with Annette and Mercedes on her breaks from work. 

  
One Thursday afternoon at a Starbucks study session (aptly named by the girls) Annette had voiced her concern about one particular biology question.    
  
“I don’t know, why don’t you just ask Petra?” Ingrid muttered, smacking her pen against her notebook.   
  
Annette’s orange eyebrows flew into her hair, and Mercedes cocked her head to the side.   
  
“Well, we probably could,” Mercedes gestured to the walkway.    
  
Ingrid and Annette looked to see Petra, wearing dark jeans and a flannel, skateboarding along with her green backpack slung over her shoulder.   
  
“Hey Petra!” Annette called out, standing up from her seat and waved enthusiastically.    
  
Petra perked up at the sound of her name, smiled and waved back. Mercedes started to wave too.    
  
Ingrid, offered a flick of the wrist and a nod, hoping not to come across as  _ too  _ rude.   
  
“She’s so kind and friendly,” Mercedes commented, watching Petra skate by as if in slow motion.   
  
“Her hair is so cool, I wonder if she’ll ever teach me how to do that braiding style,” Annette twirled an orange lock of her own in thought.   
  
“She’s clearly taught Dorothea, did you see the braid she had today? It was so cute,” Mercedes gushed.   
  
Upon hearing Dorothea’s name, Ingrid gripped her pen tighter, hoping it wouldn’t snap.    
  
“I bet Dorothea has taught her a fair few things, too,” Mercedes added with a giggle, and Annette joined in.   
  
Ingrid mentally flipped Petra off, for looking cool on a skateboard.   
  
But Ingrid knew in her heart of hearts it was more than the skateboard, it was more than the gym. It was much, much more than this trivial activeness from a kinesiology student   


* * *

“So I did this gig on the weekend, just a private function for some corporate bigwigs, and this guy came up to me and started sweet-talking…”   
  
Ingrid nodded, listening intently to Dorothea’s story. Her friend was sitting at the Starbucks counter, her venti white chocolate mocha frappucino in hand and actively recounting her weekend as Ingrid worked.    
  
“So I  _ literally  _ had to say ‘I have a girlfriend’ like, what, twenty times? Urgh, men. I don’t know what you see in them, Ingrid.”   
  
Ingrid stopped cleaning the coffee machine nozzle and looked down at the coffee-stained metal grate.   
  
“Damn, that must’ve sucked.”   
  
“You have  _ no  _ idea,” Dorothea sighed and continued to scroll through her phone. Her eyes lit up and she grinned, turning the phone around to show Ingrid a picture from her Instagram account.   
  
“Look how cute we are!” She gushed, and Ingrid glanced at the photo out of the corner of her eye.   
  
Ingrid did absolutely everything in her power not to scowl. Dorothea, clinging to Petra and placing a kiss on her cheek.   
  
“Y-you two sure are,” Ingrid chuckled, forcing a smile on her face to act like she was pleased and ignoring the sludge of jealousy that swirled in her stomach. 

* * *

Petra was untouchable, flawless even. She had a workout routine that rivalved Felix’s, her grades were nearly ( _ nearly _ ) on par with Lysithea’s, her starbucks order was simple and she tipped everytime. How  _ dare  _ she consider Ingrid’s minimum wage.

Petra was disgustingly perfect, and it made Ingrid sick to her stomach.

* * *

“Say, would you want to come to a gig of mine this Saturday?” Dorothea, clearly oblivious, managed to pull Ingrid from her brooding thoughts.   
  
Ingrid did not like electronic music. Personally, she didn’t think it was ‘real’ music if the instrumentation was all digital. She was more into hard rock music.    
  
“Mmm, you know I don’t like clubs,” Ingrid shifted her weight awkwardly and started to fumble with the straw dispenser.   
  
“It’s not a long set, It’s just myself and Sylvain. Plus you get free drinks,” Dorothea enticed in a sing-song tone, twirling a lock of brown hair around her finger with a cheshire grin.    
  
“But, the loud noises and stuff…” Ingrid’s voice trailed off into nothing.   
  
“We have earplugs to protect those precious little bones and hairs,” Dorothea countered, as if with practiced precision.    
  
“It’ll be such a banger of a night, Ingrid. I’d hate for you to miss it.”   
  
Ingrid made the mistake of looking at Dorothea. She sat there, green eyes gleaming and an enticing smile on her lips.   
  
“It’s a free ticket, free earplugs, quick and easy set, free drinks-”   
  
“Okay okay! I’ll come,” Ingrid sighed and admitted defeat.    
  
Dorothea squealed in delight and started to tap away at her phone, “Yes you’ll love it! Oh my goddess i’ll text you the details right now. You can see the new dress  i just bought too! Oh and Petra just got this super cute pair of pants that I’m making her wear-”   
  
_ Fuck,  _ Petra would be there. But Ingrid should’ve realised of  _ course  _ Petra would be there because she was, unfortunately for Ingrid, Dorothea’s girlfriend! Wherever Dorothea went, Petra would follow her like some sort of pet.    
  
Ingrid plastered that fake smile to her face, ignoring her death grip on the plastic cup in her hand as Dorothea continued to babble on about fashion. 

* * *

“I’m not wearing this,” Felix snapped, standing in the bedroom with his arms tightly folded over what appeared to be a navy blue crop top.   
  
“Shut up, it’s a good look,” Sylvain barked back from the mirror as he adjusted his eyeliner.   
  
Ingrid, watching her two best friends, sighed and sank back onto the bed that Felix and Sylvain normally shared.    
  
“This is bullying,  _ why  _ do I have to wear this?” Felix growled, reaching for the hoodie at his desk.    
  
Ingrid smirked, she  _ knew  _ he’d dive for that hoodie. It was the hoodie Felix wore everywhere: to the gym, to class, to dinner, to bed, there was nowhere that hoodie had not been.   
  
“Because it’s a nice change! Urgh, you’re impossible,” Sylvain grumbled and spun on his heel to reveal the front of his mesh shirt.    
  
“Thoughts and feelings?” He gestured to his attire, the light catching his orange nail polish and making it gleam.   
  
“Those pants are  _ way  _ too tight,” Ingrid deadpanned, unable to look away from the black chinos.   
  
“Perfect,” Sylvain grinned and picked up his snapback from his desk.    
  
“That’s a super cute jumpsuit, by the way,” He gestured to Ingrid’s black jumpsuit with flowing sleeves. Underneath, she wore a white t shirt.   
  
“Th-thanks, I got it on sale,” Ingrid stuttered and looked away. 

"Y'know, you scrub up nicely," Felix muttered from the corner as he zipped up his hoodie.

Ingrid couldn't help but blush at that, and Sylvain nodded with a chuckle, “He’s not wrong. You could sweep anyone off their feet.”   
  
“I-I don’t plan to!” Ingrid shot back, tightly folding her arms.   
  
“ _ Sure,  _ Ingrid. You’re totally  _ not  _ going to try and get into Dot’s pants.”   
  
“SYLVAIN!” Ingrid screeched and threw a pillow at him, but Sylvain was able to catch it with a laugh.   
  
“You forget, Dorothea is with Petra,” Felix chimed in as he pulled out his phone to order an uber.   
  
Ingrid’s fist clenched upon hearing Petra’s name.   
  
“Oh c’mon Felix, way to ruin the fun,” Sylvain teased, picking up his backpack that contained his laptop and creation pad.    
  
“The truth isn’t fun,” Felix rolled his eyes.

* * *

**  
****  
**By the time the three got to the club, they were met by Dorothea, Hilda and Petra. The three girls had carpooled in Hilda’s red Maserati. Ingrid couldn’t help but wonder how Hilda had managed to convince her brother to buy that car for her, but then Ingrid remembered this was Hilda. Of course, the roof of the car was down and obnoxious synth-pop music was blaring from the car’s speakers.  
  
Hilda shouted out to Ingrid and the boys, but no one could hear what she was saying over the thumping hook. Sylvain motioned for her to turn the music down, so in response Hilda stopped the car and killed the engine.  
  
“Urgh, I said we’re here, bitches!” Hilda scoffed as she got out of the gar in her skin tight tube dress.  
  
“Well clearly, _someone_ doesn’t care about their hearing,” Sylvain shook his head while Petra stepped out first to keep the car door open for Dorothea.  
  
Ingrid did everything in her power to stop a scowl from forming on her face. Petra looked _killer:_ She wore a sleeveless black button-up and wide-legged pants with purple heels, which made Ingrid feel incredibly ugly.  
  
“Oh come on, Petra,” Dorothea playfully scoffed as Petra extended her hand to help the DJ out of the car.  
  
“This is nothing,” Petra responded with a grin, helping Dorothea out of the car and closing the door.  
Ingrid wanted nothing more than a black hole to open up at her booted feet and to swallow her whole.  
  
“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get turnt!” Hilda locked the car behind her and made a beeline for the club’s entrance.   
  
Petra, to Ingrid’s further dismay, got to the door first and held it open for everyone.  
  
“Thanks honey,” Dorothea gave Petra a quick kiss on her way in.  
  
Ingrid, behind Dorothea the entire time, just gave Petra a curt nod.  
  


* * *

  
The club pounded with music and pulsated with flashing neon lights. With Dorothea having her set first, Ingrid found herself leaning against the bar and trying to enjoy the  [ track playing. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E84LV2QpBY4) Casting her gaze out at the dancefloor, Ingrid could immediately see Hilda, Annette and Sylvain dancing right underneath the DJ booth where Dorothea was elevated, working her magic and clearly enjoying herself. A large digital graphic was pulsing behind her on a large white screen, which Ingrid deduced as a logo Ignatz had designed.   
  
Ingrid turned to the bar and set down her now empty beer bottle to order another drink, but was unable to hear Felix approaching over the pounding beat.   
  
“This stinks,” he nudged Ingrid and jerked his head over to the door. Ingrid, with a drink in hand, followed Felix’s gaze and bit her lip. Claude had walked in with sunglasses on and immediately headed towards Hilda.   
  
“Claude is a slippery fucker,” Felix grunted, a beer firm in his grip.   
  
Ingrid scowled at her friend. Sure, Claude was a mischievous extrovert and captain of the archery club who would never let down a Snapchat streak. However, he was undoubtedly clever and well respected around Garreg Mach - even if he was a philosophy major.   
  
“I doubt he’s gonna cause a world war,” Ingrid called back to Felix over the music, noticing how the crowd screamed in delight as  [ Dorothea’s next song started to play ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zynnk8ZjusI) . It must clearly be a favourite or a classic, Ingrid couldn’t tell.   
  
“He’s probably here for Mercedes and her sweets,” Felix narrowed his eyes, following the archery captain with careful precision.   
  
“Well, he’s not the only one. Look at Annette and Hilda,” Ingrid gestured to her friends, her point emphasized as they started to dance rather close to each other with dopey grins and giggles.    
  
“Whatever, I’m going for a smoke,” Felix skulked away, clearly over the conversation.    
  
“Your crop top is cute!” Ingrid called after him, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.    
  
Felix flipped her off. Ingrid was too busy chuckling to notice that Claude was dancing his way over to her, s [ inging along to Dorothea’s latest track ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VshLyAam3GI) .   
  
“You got a painkiller, Ingrid? You look like you need one,” Claude grinned and ordered two shots from the bartender.   
  
Ingrid rolled her eyes and begrudgingly took the glass. Her head was swimming slightly from her previous drinks.    
  
“I don’t like clubs that much,” was her weak response, but Claude just raised an eyebrow.    
  
“Really? Then why are you here?”   
  
“Dorothea insisted I come along, she got me in for free.”   
  
“So you got into a club for free and have been standing here the whole time watching her instead of dancing?” Claude smirked, downing his shot and bouncing in place to the beat.   
  
“She’s a slappin’ DJ. Her style is so different to Sylvain’s but that’s why they’re a great pair.”   
  
Ingrid glanced over at Dorothea, who was clearly in her element up in that booth.   
  
“Yeah, she sure is…” Ingrid trailed off and looked down at the dancing crowd. She saw Petra, dancing effortlessly with the group.   
  
Like some kind of reflex, Ingrid scowled and turned to order yet another shot.   
  
“If you think she’s so great, why are you glaring at her girlfriend like she’s some kind of criminal ?”   
  
Claude’s words stung to Ingrid’s core.    
  
“I-I’m not!”   
  
“You just did,” he smirked and ordered another shot.   
  
“Ingrid, anyone with eyes can see that you clearly do not like Petra. But what I wanna know is why?”   
  
Ingrid fell silent and downed her shot.    
  
“Look,” Claude scooched close enough for Ingrid to see his scruffy beard and unstyled hair. .   
  
“Petra is incredibly smart, kind and calm. She’s literally done  _ nothing  _ towards you, and I’ll bet my scholarship she’s got no personal vendetta. Unless…” Claude looked from Ingrid, to Petra, then to Dorothea.    
  
Instantly, his eyes gleamed and he chuckled again, “Ingrid, are you jealous of Petra?”   
  
At that, Ingrid coughed profusely. Perhaps it was also her intake of shots. Claude patted her on the back, still smirking with victory.   
  
“So, am I right?”   
  
“Sh-shut up Claude!” Ingrid spluttered, slamming her empty glass on the bar and barking for another shot. She had lost count, and was clearly intoxicated judging from her swirling vision.   
  
“So, I’m wrong in saying that you’re actually so hot for Dot, and you think Petra is the coolest chick on the block?” Claude asked, before letting out an appreciative hollar as Dorothea’s  [ last song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8CFNxnyEyg) of the setlist started to thump over the club’s speakers.   
  
“I’m also wrong in thinking that you don’t want to be Dorothea’s girlfriend?” Claude pressed, watching Dorothea point to Petra from the DJ booth as the beat dropped and curled her index finger as a motion for Petra to come forward.   
  
“I’m wrong in believing that you’re totally okay with the two of them dancing like that?”    
  
Ingrid blearily looked over, and let out an audible groan upon seeing Petra and Dorothea dancing together with their lips locked.   
  
“Yeah, I’m totally wrong,” Claude threw his hands up to rest his case and nudged Ingrid’s shoulder.   
  
“Can’t you see Dot is happy? Why can’t you be happy for her?”   
  
“I...I can’t,” Ingrid grunted, her head feeling heavy and gross. Her stomach was flipping constantly, and she knew that was a sign to head to the bathroom.   
  
“I’ll see you later...” she began her journey to the bathroom as the song finished and the crowd went ballistic again.   



End file.
